


Signal to Noise

by WashiEaglewings



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Nuzlocke Challenge, Orre, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, hinted pokemon abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings/pseuds/WashiEaglewings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, two teenagers saved the Orre region from Cipher and the Pokemon whose hearts were artificially closed. Now, with Snag Machine in hand, Max embarks on a journey to fight and save the region and purify another wave of Shadow Pokemon; this time, he and his team are going to the source.</p><p>A Nuzlocke of Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

There had been a time when the seas were filled with your song.  
  
There are still melodies—fins slicing through the waves, guttural growls from sharp-toothed predators, ringing echoes of the lost and found. But they are not _the song_ , the one that echoes in the black depths of your heart and mind, the one that is only half-familiar because another you is singing it.  
  
There have been no others for so, so long. There are only the dark currents and the smaller Pokémon who look at you as though you’re a relic of another time; and maybe you are, a product of a time when stories of towers burning down and a sacred bird of flame weren’t passed down the same way your stories had been. Before there had been the Storm, there had been light and rivers and, yes, even the deep blue seas, but there had always, _always_ been more of you, more threads of melody, more song.  
  
It has been so long that you’ve forgotten bits of it, and it feels as though you’re missing a fin, a wing, even the lustrous silver sheen of your feather-scales. The song has never been the important thing—it is not having another to share it _with_ , who doesn’t have to be taught the song, that makes your heart ache and the tips of your wings drag against the ocean floor.  
  
So you stir the waves into being; you pass under and through and above the Pokémon who stare at you as though you are a god—they call you _Tideracer_ and _Stormbringer_ the further away from land you travel. You know when you draw close to the land of Man because the Pokemon in the sea call you other things entirely. They call you _Lugia._  
  
You learn the names of Man’s Land as you travel—Kanto and Hoenn, Sinnoh and Johto, Unova. Kalos. They are content with this the way you are content with your own solitary lifestyle. The few who dive deep enough to meet you on the ocean floor, or a few hundred feet above it, are kind and awed enough to share bits of information with you. This is how you learn about the world above the crests.  
  
The Pokémon and the names are different, but for the most part, things are the same. The lands are flourishing. There have been no accidents. Peace has been a kind Master to the Pokemon here.  
  
The day you leave so many miles of distance between yourself and the bottom of the sea floor, when you almost come up to the surface, is the day you learn of Orre. There are very few Pokémon here. The ones who see you stare blankly for a few moments before they swim away, leaving only whispers of sound in their wake. You don’t learn much, but you learn some: it’s a land with little water and so much sand, and very few places for Pokémon to live. But there is Man, they say. Oh, there is Man.  
  
It should convince you to leave. It should. But it doesn't. The skies don't tempt here the way they had in Kalos or Sinnoh and especially Johto; the seas are open. Man does not venture out. There is a chill in the water that warns, that excites, and for the first time in a long time you find yourself drawn here.  
  
One day, when Orre is still the closest land of Man and the ocean floor does not call the way the open skies do, you hear it: the keening cry is far away, and barely audible. You miss it the first time, because it isn't an odd thing for you to sing your song inside yourself, to keep it locked away like a precious secret, a comforting thing. You're close enough to the surface to see the skies darken and the sun set in the west, and your song is stuck in the hollows of your throat—and you hear it.  
  
It’s low like the tides pushing and pulling the sand, and it doesn’t sound the way you remember it, but you remember so _little_. You open your mouth to sing, and even if it sounds rusted and raw it is _there_ , carried by dancing waves. You've forgotten what it sounds like to have that song rush out of you, not tucked away, not hesitantly given—now it's a booming cry that you can _feel_ in the pit of your belly, that is returned in heartbeats, in precious moments—  
  
And the song is so loud that it drowns out the other voices that are screaming, that pierce the melody with terrified cries—you ignore them as you race toward the source, as you keep singing, keep flying—  
  
And suddenly there is cold. Ice cold _things_ wrapped around your wings and your neck and your tail and your beak, so that there is no way the song or you can escape. It breaks away into a chaos of screams and violent thrashes, but the cold dark things hold you fast and draw you up out of the water, into darkness—  
  
Into a piercing thing in your side, so many sharp points like a Qwilfish—  
  
Into chaos—  
  
You wake up after what feels like days, and you see that there are eyes from Man and they're so pale, so ghost-like, staring at you with huge red eyes and curling smiles.  
  
And there is no singing partner.  
  
And then there is no song.  
  
And by the time you are grabbing your prey from the dark waters that night, when there are bodies hitting the waves and terrified screams of humans and Pokémon alike, there is no you anymore.


	2. Chapter One: Jovi

"Jovi, come on! I'm going to be late for my session!"  
  
Jovi hears his voice through the iron doors, and buries herself deeper under her makeshift hiding place. The pile of laundry—clean, thank goodness—in Max's room may have been a strange place to pick a spot, granted, but it isn't like it's the _worst_ place either: the way Big Brother goes on, he hardly has enough time to tie his own shoes, never mind pick up his room. It's the opposite of her room, where everything is clean and neat.  
  
(Okay, except _maybe_ the piles of crayon drawings on her table, but an organized mess sounds better than "I'm going to dump my stuff everywhere." At best, it makes her sound more like Mommy, and that has to mean something, right?)  
  
For spending so much time in the Simulation Chamber, with all its beeping and buzzing, Max's room is very quiet: no beepings from monitors, no shrill shrieks from whirring machines, no blocky printers coughing out readings. It isn't even Jovi's room, but she prefers it to even her own bedroom. She's tried to beg for a switch for what seems like _forever_ , but Mommy is always busy, and Daddy's never home, and—  
  
Suddenly Max's baggy t-shirt is shifted out of her face and she's met with a pair of big brown eyes, familiar and shining.  
  
"I found her!" the Eevee chirps, and shifts his paws to grab a pile of shorts from the pile. "She picked a good spot this time!"  
  
"Sam, I think your nose is off." Max's big stupid head is the first thing to come through the sliding metal door. "She can't—why are you in my room."  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know," she teases, as Sam shakes his fluffy body out.  
  
"I _do_ know. I just don't understand," he says as he puts his hands on his hips.  
  
"You don't understand _anything_!" Jovi points out. "I thought you were supposed to be old and wise now that you were older."  
  
"Fourteen isn't—oh no," he says. "I think I just felt my kidneys give out."  
  
Big Brother can be difficult sometimes, and moody, and not the best sharer, but he does have a good sense of humor. Sometimes. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head as Jovi laughs at him, but there's a smile on his face. "Seriously though, any reason why you chose _my_ room to hide in?" Max asks, running a pale hand through his shock of red hair. "You have a bedroom too, you know."  
  
"I'm too big to hide under my bed anymore," she says, as she stands up. Shirts and clean pairs of boxer shorts fall off her body as she rises up to her full height—she's still just under Max's shoulders, but _someday_...  
  
"So my pile of laundry was the next best thing?"  
  
She shrugs. "Besides, nobody would be able to find me in your room."  
  
"That's why I'm here. Cam thought you'd gone off to that wacko doctor's again—"  
  
"He's a very nice man," Jovi argues. Sometimes.  
  
"—And we were worried. Mom said I couldn't start my session until after we knew you were okay."  
  
"But you're okay!" Sam says with a smile. "So everything's okay. Right?"  
  
"Yeah," Jovi says, and sighs. "You gonna go to your session now?" she asks, looking up at Max.  
  
He's already itching to go back outside to that big awful room with the whirring sounds, bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently. "Yeah, if you're okay." He must see something on her face, because he sighs. "It's only for a few hours, sis. Then we can do something. But not girly stuff though!"  
  
"Just because it's not battling," she starts, but by then Max is already out of the room.  
  
She falls onto the pile of clothes with a sigh, and brings her hands to her chin. "Ever since Papa got that machine installed, he's playing with it."  
  
There's a brush of soft fur against her leg, and she looks down to see Sam pressed against her. "He just wants to be the best," Sam says.  
  
"Doesn't it hurt your feelings when he chooses the big strong Pokémon? Like the Salamance?"  
  
"He doesn't choose," Sam says, "the computer does. He just wants to be prepared. You know? In case something happens."  
  
That's what she wants to shake into him: nothing _happens_ in the lab, or in Orre. She knows that it's Big Brother's dream to go out in the world and battle Pokémon professionally, and maybe take on a League or two. She knows he's strong enough. But the closest region is still hundreds of miles away, too far to take a water-Pokémon. Professor Krane does okay, and they're the closest thing to a "scientific community" in the region, but they don't make enough to send him on a journey that's one week by plane.  
  
Sam helps. Sam's a Pokémon that can battle, somewhat, even if he's still little and weak. But it's not enough to make Max stop thinking about the outside world.  
  
"Max might not want to play hide-and-seek with you," Sam says, "but I will." He steps away from her to wiggle his brown-and-cream body. "I mean, I found you, right?"  
  
She sighs, then smiles. Closes her eyes. Counts to ten.  
  


* * *

  
Normally Jovi doesn't watch the news; she's eight, and there are much more pressing things in her world, like how long she can hide from Big Brother. But when she sees the crowd of people hovering around the sole TV in the lab, she has to come over to investigate.  
  
The tiny Minun is still snoozing in her arms, tuckered out after a long day's play in the nearby forest. Nobody turns around to see her when the doors open and she steps into the big room. The pretty woman from ONBS is holding paper notes tensely in her hands, though she speaks calmly.  
  
"Sources report that the SS Libra vanished without a trace late last evening. The ship was supposedly carrying a host of trainers and Pokémon from the Johto and Hoenn regions. No sign of any passengers has been found. Local authorities are hoping to use sonar technology and an elite team of Pokémon to search for any possible trace..."  
  
"Reckon it might've been attacked?" a tall intern asks.  
  
"By what, some rabid Pokémon?" answers an overweight man with a Sealeo mustache. She thinks his name is Rick. "There were trainers on that boat with anxious Pokémon, I'm sure they would've been able to catch or take 'em out."  
  
"You never know, though," says a short woman. She adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "There has been some oceanic activity ever since the incident in Hoenn with Kyogre and Groudon—"  
  
She hardly hears the doors open.  
  
"Alright, everyone," a sharp voice says. Every head turns to see Mommy, who's dressed up in the pink business suit Jovi loves so much and has each dark lock meticulously braided into submission. "I know this is very exciting, but we still have a lot of work to do."  
  
"Ah, c'mon, Lily," a woman in the back begs.  
  
But her Mommy will have none of it. "I know for a fact that there are several books on your desk that have gone unread," Lily says. "Hop to it, everyone."  
  
The group of scientists ebb away, a sea of sad labcoats and the people who wear them. Jovi doesn't budge, but holds Mimi more firmly in her arms. Lily looks down with bright green eyes and sighs. "You okay?"  
  
"Are they going to find all those people?" Jovi asks quietly. "And Pokémon?"  
  
Her Mommy is all business when it comes to her coworkers, but when it's just her and Jovi and Max, there's a gentler side to her. Lily bends down to brush Jovi's cheek and chuckles. "I'm sure everything will be just fine. They'll probably have found the ship by dinner tonight."  
  
Jovi can count on her hands the number of times her Mommy's been wrong. And if Mommy says it'll be okay...  
  
"Chin up," Lily says, and pats her daughter's head. "I think I saw your brother battling with Aferd while I was coming in. You want to go see if he'll play with you?"  
  
Not likely, if he's already found a place to battle. But Jovi nods anyway. "Just gotta tuck Mimi in," she says.  
  
Lily smiles encouragingly, and leaves Jovi and the room with a kiss on the forehead.  
  
Jovi turns back to the TV, where the woman is still discussing the missing ship, and sighs. Closes her eyes. Counts to ten.  
  
"Let's go get Mr. Dum Dum," she tells Mimi, and turns her back on the pretty ONBS woman.  
  
"I'd say this is the most exciting thing that's happened in..."  
  
The door closes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


	3. Chapter Two: Krane

_It is known that Pokémon and Pokéballs are able to exchange information and “connect” to each other. This connection is what allows trainers to recall their Pokémon and transport them safely. Empty upon use, the Pokéball takes on the signature of the captured Pokémon, creating a bond that is ordinarily broken only upon the destruction of one of the halves—should a Pokéball accidentally be broken, for example, the Pokémon would then be considered released and removed from its trainers influence. Similarly, should the Pokémon die, the ball would be considered unfit for further use. Barring these two events, this bond is unbreakable, and is what keeps ‘balls thrown from other trainers from catching a ‘mon already registered to a trainer._  
  
The differing catch rates of Pokéballs also factor in to this connection—  
  
“Professor Krane?”  
  
Ink splatters on the page. Bumbling and bespeckled Professor Krane looks up to see Frances, donned in a spotless white lab coat, standing in front of the opened door, clutching a stuffed binder to her chest. “You’re going to be late for your meeting, sir,” she says.  
  
“Oh—oh, yes, that’s right,” he says, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his hawkish nose. “I was just—”  
  
“Doing some research?” Frances asks.  
  
“In a sense, yes,” he says, as he gathers up the loose pieces of paper.  
  
She tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ears and sighs. “I hope it’s for the speech you have to give tomorrow?”  
  
“Not even close,” he laughs, and turns to her with a smile. “No, these are just, uh, notes. To keep myself organized. So much in here—” and here he taps his pale temple, and brushes sandy locks of hair out of his eyes “—you see, that I need to put it down. But it’s a simple presentation tomorrow, I think. We should be set.”  
  
It’s been long understood within the laboratory that it’s best to simply let Professor Krane do as he pleases—so long as everyone keeps an eye out for what should be done. He’s nowhere near as famous as Professor Oak, lacks the organization of Professor Rowan, and can only dream of being as ambitious as Professors Birch or Elm. Without funding and a first-name basis with generous sponsors, the best Professor Krane can do is his best, to work with what he has.  
  
What he has is a box of Pokéballs and a few Pokémon.  
  
And so far he’s made do with the box and the Pokémon that were brought over by his lab techs, who had, for one reason or another, failed to secure spots in the big research laboratories abroad. He knows it’s not the most glamorous spot, working with a Professor in a region that’s known more for its high crime rates and arid climate than its (almost nonexistent) population of wild Pokémon. But he treats them well, he thinks. They’re small enough to be a family, he thinks.  
  
“Did you need anything, Frances?” he asks, stretching his hands high above his disheveled head.  
  
The brown-skinned woman sets the binder down on the small end table next to his desk, careful not to disturb the mug of black coffee that has been set within an arm’s reach. “Some research materials that you might find interesting,” she says. “For the speech you have tomorrow.”  
  
“Tomorrow is the key word,” he says with a smile. “Thank you, though. I suppose it’ll be another sleepless night for me.”  
  
“Just don’t drink too much coffee,” she says, and returns his smile before walking out of the room. The metallic door closes with a clang behind her.  
  
He could flip through the binder and look for materials to write his speech, he supposes. Most of the files are updated test results from Lily: energy readings from the Purifying Machine, suggestions to improve the design. He recognizes Lily’s scrawled handwriting in between note margins, and has to tuck a smile away. It’s big news, a presentation that could change his career; and after everything that had happened with Cipher five years ago—  
  
With a start of inspiration, Krane turns back to his pages, grabs a clean sheet.  
  
_I had assumed that death of the Pokémon or destruction of the Pokéball were the only ways to sever this connection. However, the use of the Snag Machine in the incident five years ago presents another interesting theory: it is possible to interrupt and “recode” the connection. The Snag Machine severs the bond between ‘mon and ‘ball by interfering with the coding in the Pokéball. The Machine fires a quick charge that, upon contact with a targeted ‘mon, interrupts this signal between that ‘mon and its original ball; in this brief moment, the ‘mon is registered by the new ‘ball as a wild specimen. A new bond between the “Snagged” Pokémon and the ball powered by the Machine is created, destroying the previous connection. Down to the very signature, the Pokémon would then be owned by the Snagging trainer._  
  
There were only two Snag Machines ever successfully created, both assembled and originally used by the criminal gangs known as Team Snagem and Cipher. The larger Machine, stored at the headquarters for Team Snagem, was destroyed by one Wes Menzel, a former Snagem member and the young man responsible for dissolving both Team Snagem and Cipher five years prior.  
  
Krane lifts his head only for a moment to look at the gleaming glass case mounted on the left wall. Even in the half-light, the metal of a long metallic device gleams.  
  
_The other Machine, a small skeleton-like structure worn on the arm that was also used by Menzel in the great Shadow Fiasco, was destroyed after these findings were finalized._  
  


* * *

  
Mid-morning sunlight dapples the dirt pathway with shadows. Krane sits on the steps, enjoying the relative peace and quiet, as he waits for noon. That’s when the television in Kanto or Sinnoh or some other beautiful region will flicker and the tiny camera on his computer screen will broadcast his face to a small meet-up of researchers, eager on the state of things in his home region. It’s his responsibility because he’s the closest thing _to_ a regional professor, and his duty to set a good face to researchers from across the globe to represent Orre.  
  
He’s very lucky he doesn’t throw up when he’s nervous. Just gets a little shaky, a little dry-mouthed. He should have listened to Frances last night about the coffee thing.  
  
He looks up at the sound of laughter, and smiles when he sees Max ambling down back from the forest. Sam trots beside him, his ears perked up and tail held high—even from here Krane can see that the tiny Eevee is panting right alongside his trainer. When they get a little closer, a little further into hearing range, he calls out, “Good practice?” and smiles when both heads perk up at the sound of his voice.  
  
“Alright,” Max calls out, and picks up the pace.  
  
He’s never met Max and Jovi’s father, but he’s heard stories from Lily: a sailor who ferries product between Orre and Johto. It keeps him busy almost all the time, but every once in a while he would break away for a few hours to visit with his family. Sam had been given to Max on their last visit, almost six months ago.  
  
As far as Krane knows, Scott Wittsworth had been nowhere near the SS Libra when it had suddenly vanished. It’s been the conversation of choice for most of his staff, when Lily and the kids aren’t around.  
  
“Sam’s looking pretty good,” Krane says instead, focusing on the Eevee who’s fluffing himself out with pride. “You’re doing a good job with him.”  
  
Max looks down at his companion with a smile on his face. “He’s growing really quickly.”  
  
“Have you thought about evolving him anytime soon?” Krane asks.  
  
Sam tilts his head to the side as Max shrugs. “I dunno. He has to be strong before he can evolve, right? Like other Pokemon?”  
  
Pokemon evolution isn’t his forte, but growing up in Ecruteak has its perks. “Eevee are special,” Krane says. “You can evolve them into almost anything, if you have the right circumstances. Just depends on what you want and if you’re lucky enough to have it.”  
  
“Sam’ll be strong no matter what he evolves into,” Max says confidently, and crouches down to pat the Eevee on the head.  
  
That’s when Krane sees the large white truck careening down the dirt path.  
  
“Max,” he says, as his hands start to shake, “could you and Sam go grab the file of papers on my desk? The ones on Orre habitat?” He clears his throat and stands up, hoping that brushing dirt off his lab coat will hide the slight tremor. “And tell Frances to meet me out here?”  
  
Max has already turned to see the van quickly driving closer and closer toward the lab. “Professor—?”  
  
“Please,” he says firmly. He can count on his hands the number of times he’s raised his voice above anything than a jolly hello. “Please, just. Go.”  
  
He’s grateful of this when he sees Max nod his head, suddenly business-like, and run with Sam into the safety of the lab.  
  
He can’t help but notice the way the dust dances in the few solid beams of sunlight as the truck that skids to a halt in front of him. But he pays attention as a solidly-built man dressed in dull white armor exits out of the passenger side. He’s already fingering a Pokéball in between his massive fingers, and looks up and down at Krane as two more soldiers, all dressed in the same dull white armor, start to advance toward him.  
  
“Cipher hears,” the man says with a cruel smile, “you’re working on a purification machine.”  
  
In Krane’s office, an alarm rings: thirty minutes until he’s due to go online.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


	4. Chapter Three: Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally published on the Nuzlocke Forums in June of 2014. It has not been edited.

“Sam, come on!”  
  
His legs are only so long, he wants to say, and they’d just been battling. But Max is his trainer and Master and he has to obey, so down he goes along the hallway into Krane’s office. The big box on the desk is flashing something Sam can’t read, but he doesn’t need to know words or numbers to know that something’s wrong. For one thing, Krane _never_ allows him or Jovi or even Max in here without an assistant around—but here they are, with Max flipping through papers and sighing “How’m I supposed to find _anything_ in here?”  
  
If the papers didn’t all smell the same—coffee stained, all of Krane’s excited passion and lazy indignation—Sam would have been able to help, but all he can do is just sit there and jump as the door opens.  
  
Max and Sam turn to see Frances in the doorway, huffing and puffing. “Krane is—did he send you two in here?”  
  
She doesn’t give them time to answer, though Max’s mouth is already half-open with a response. The lean lady is already pulling a key from her coat pocket as she steps to a glass case mounted on the wall. “What’s even happening?” Max asks, as bolts clatter on the tiled ground. “The Professor sent me to—”  
  
“The Professor’s in trouble,” Frances grits. Something clangs against the glass; there’s a low ringing that vibrates deep in Sam’s ears, that makes his toes twitch. “This is the only thing that can save him.”  
  
“This—?”  
  
“This,” Frances says, and holds out something. They’re too high up for Sam to see properly, but if he bends up and angles himself _just right_ he can see it looks like an arm, a human arm, hollow and gleaming.  
  
Sam doesn’t have any idea what that is, or what it means, but he turns to see Max’s mouth fall open, his green eyes go wide. “But that’s—”  
  
“The Snag Machine,” Frances says, still catching her breath. “I know. I need you to put it on.”  
  
Above their heads, alarm bells whistle. The room floods red. Frances winces at the sound and shakes her head.  
  
Max extends his left arm, his mouth set in a firm line. “Do it.”  
  
Sam counts twenty loud roars of the siren in his head as buttons are pressed and leather straps are pulled. A headset is attached to the dull blue band that keeps Max’s hair out of his face. He counts fifteen surges of red as Max rolls his arm to test it, as Frances slaps two Pokeballs into the small fanny pack around Max’s waist. Sam doesn’t hear her instructions Frances gives Max, but he sees her worried face as Max bolts through the door. Sam follows his Master through the door, giving only a goodbye flick of his tail.  
  
The sirens and flashes don’t get better or worse as they make their way outside—the tone changes, and the red is swallowed up by sunlight. Sam’s more focused on the blood streaming from the Zigzagoon who had chased him up a tree, or his trainer who’s cradling an arm close to his chest, on the Pokemon who are bent low to the ground, their energy spent. He hears feet trying to find purchase on the dirt, and looks up to see Krane trying his best to fight off a lanky man in white gleaming armor—but that’s only until a much larger, much broader man grabs the Professor by his wrists and yanks him away.  
  
“Get away from him!” Max yells.  
  
The broad man lifts his head, and Sam can swear that his face breaks further into a cruel smile. “I don’t think so, kid.”  
  
Krane struggles further in the man’s hold; his glasses are starting to fall off his face. “Max, g-get out of here.”  
  
“I’m not leaving without him,” Max growls, throwing his arms behind his back. “I’ll stop you.”  
  
The man takes one long look between Max and Sam and laughs; it rumbles in the air. “You think you’re so strong? Fine,” he says, and flings out one Pokéball.  
  
They haven’t perfected the hologram system for Pokémon use yet; all that Sam knows of other Pokémon is from the bits of information he’s been able to glean from lectures, or the picture books that Jovi sometimes reads him. So Sam doesn’t quite know what to make of the small cream-colored Pokémon who solidifies from the flash of white light: it’s small and all soft angles, with broad paws and a round muzzle. But there’s an odd glint in the tiny bear’s eyes, a strangeness to the way it carries itself, that makes the hairs along his collar bristle. He bares his teeth, a reflex, and is met with a snarl that chills.  
  
“Teddiursa,” the broad leader man says, “get ‘em.”  
  
And the tiny bear—Teddiursa—charges, leading with its broad paws. Sam hears the whirring of electricity behind him as Max commands a tackle, and he barrels in, legs pumping wildly underneath him. But the Teddiursa dives away, and Sam’s left skidding in the dirt. Max is shouting out fearfully as the Teddiursa keeps charging—not to Sam but to Max, who’s holding his arms out in front of him.  
  
His legs are a blur. Sam jumps as far and as fast as he can to intercept the attack. Both of them land in the dirt, kicking up dust. The wind has been blown out of his lungs but Max is safe, he’s _safe_ , and it’s all he can think about as he muscles himself on top of the flailing bear, content to stay there—until teeth sink in hard. Sam smells his own blood as he rips away, before bloody claws strike a hard blow against his head.  
  
He sees stars in the afternoon, hears Max calling his name, but all that matters is the heavy weight on his own chest, looking up into beady dark eyes glowing with fear, as two bloody paws lift up.  
  
He sees a flash of red—white? red?—and suddenly the weight isn’t on him anymore. Suddenly it’s just a ball, one very much like his own, tossing and rolling on the flat plane of his own body. Sam is conscious enough to hear the “click!” of the Pokéball as it falls to the ground, the frustrated roar of the older man. He feels small hands pick him up and sees a familiar head of blue hair, as his Master’s mane of red bullets just out of view.  
  
When he closes his eyes and blacks out, the stars are in the dark, where they’re supposed to be.  
  


* * *

  
They have a meeting, after.  
  
Frances is the one who leads it, a few minutes after she delivers Krane’s speech to the glowing box in his office. Max and Jovi’s mother sits next to them, keeping her chin high even as tears dribble down her cheeks. Sam’s only just aware of the other scientists and assistants who are crowding the room, of Jovi’s hands on his collar and Max’s right by his feet, because the only thing the tiny Eevee is focusing on is the Teddiursa restrained to the table in the center of the room.  
  
Max will tell him later that they had “sedated” the little bear, had made him—it was a boy, the machines had said—sleepy and safe. And when he’s asleep he does look a lot calmer, even though his eyes twitch every once in a while and he mutters something in his sleep, something too low for Sam to even think of hearing. Each paw is held down by straps of leather.  
  
“We didn’t think Cipher would try their Shadow Pokémon experiment again,” Frances says to the gathered crowd. She looks down to the snoozing Teddiursa. “We were wrong.”  
  
“How do we fix this?” a lady calls from the back.  
  
“We don’t even know if there’s a way _to_ fix this,” Frances says. “I’ve been reviewing the Professor’s notes—”  
  
“What about those two kids that saved us last time?” Sam turns his head to see a broad man push his way to the front.  
  
“Disappeared soon after the incident,” Lily says. She stands up, her hands entwined, and steps toward the audience and the tiny table with the tinier bear. “We’ll have to assume that we’re on our own. The authorities have been notified of Professor Krane’s disappearance, but for right now…”  
  
The room dissolves into chatter. Sam looks up at Max, whose eyes are hard on the small shape on the table. He doesn’t pay attention. Jovi is, though; he knows it because her hold on him lessens, just enough for Sam to land softly on the floor. He’s squeezed his way through legs and jumped on the table by the time anyone’s noticed him, and when they do, the room is silent.  
  
The Teddiursa wakes up with a start and a cry, and looks at Sam with absolute terror. He bares his tiny cub fangs and tries to flail his paws, but his body doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to, all tied down.  
  
He would be scared, too, if he had to be tied town like that.  
  
But Sam would never _ever_ hurt anyone, not the way this Teddiursa had tried.  
  
“You gotta calm down,” Sam says, sitting a few inches away. “If you don’t hurt anyone they’ll let you out.”  
  
The tiny thing moans and clenches its eyes shut, and doesn’t move until Sam—hesitantly, slowly—puts a paw on the Teddiursa’s shoulder. Beady black eyes meet warm brown ones for a moment, two, five, and there’s no thrashing or anything—  
  
And then Max is up with them, his hands on the table. The Teddiursa withdraws into itself immediately, managing only a half-snarl at the sudden appearance of the boy with the metallic arm.  
  
He flinches, his Master, but Sam doesn’t see any malice—only fear and a touch of empathy. This is how Sam knows the two of them are safe. “We won’t hurt you,” Max says.  
  
“You just have to play nice,” a high voice squeaks, and it’s only because Sam’s been so focused and so high up that he doesn’t see Jovi leaning up to get a good look at their tiny pseudo-prisoner.  
  
The room is still silent as Lily comes up to stand beside her two children, her makeup smudged from crying. Sam looks up to see the Teddiursa’s Pokéball clenched tightly in her hand; the other is resting on her son’s shoulder.  
  
“Mama,” Jovi says, “he looks so scared. Do we have to tie him up?”  
  
Though the words are soft around the edges, Lily says, “He’ll hurt us if we don’t.”  
  
But Sam’s shaking his head as he looks into the Teddiursa’s eyes, which are still fear-sharp around the edges. But he’s not the flailing monster he had been in the yard—he’s just a scared little thing who doesn’t understand.  
  
“I think Sam can help,” Max says. Sam meets the boy’s green eyes, and when they meet, the Eevee smiles, determined.  
  
She doesn’t look happy about it, but she nods. The scientists are still whispering amongst themselves, but the whispers explode into shouts as the Teddiursa is sucked into the ball. Max takes it gingerly, fingers tapping against the red top half.  
  
“Sammy,” Jovi trills, “maybe the garden?”  
  
His legs ache, but he doesn’t see stars when he’s carried down onto the tiled floor. Sam's tail and head are high as he leads the way, parting the sea of scientists with a red ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


	5. Chapter Four: Lilian

They keep a garden in the center of their lab. It’s a miracle that it grows anything at all in this arid soil, but there are years where some sweetness comes of their labor. This is a dull year; a few shoots have finally managed to sprout, and the carrots that did manage to grow are bitter and lean. Every year debate comes up on whether or not to give up on the project and convert the space to something else—and every year Krane shoots the dissenters down, calls the sad space a metaphor for their own little lab, that they have to endure the hard years to bear fruit.  
  
Lilian’s never quite known what to make of it.  
  
She often passes the sad little garden on her way to and from the different rooms in the lab, from the Chamber to her bedroom to Krane's office to Krane's “secret” office to her children's rooms. She never gives it a second glance. But today she stands in front of it, a lonely figure on one side of the glass, staring at the lonely figure inside of it.  
  
The Teddiursa has calmed away from people. It is almost easy to think that she's staring at a tiny farm in Johto, high up in the mountains, and this little cub belongs to a villager, or a curious wildling. But there's still a feral gleam in its beady eyes, a nervousness to its twitching claws and curious nose as it sniffs around the garden. Its paws shake as it bends down to dig a carrot from the earth, clumsily tossing dirt behind it into the withered lettuce leaves; it bites the end, thinks for a moment, and then spits on the ground before tearing up the root.  
  
It's instinct for her to rap her knuckles against the glass--she used to do the same to Max and Jovi when she needed their attention, to draw them from their playing. She comes to regret it as the Teddiursa’s head shoots up—it stares at her, angry and intelligent, and snarls.  
  
The glass is thick enough to withstand a Tackle, especially from such a low-level Pokemon. She pulls back anyway.  
  
“Dr. Fournier?”  
  
Lilian starts at the summons, and quickly turns her head. Rachel, the pretty-eyed secretary who's been here as long as Krane and knows every nook and cranny of this tiny laboratory, is staring at her. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."  
  
"I hope you didn't look for me very long," Lilian says, but makes no point of moving.  
  
"I was in Realgem Stadium when Wes and Rui were still in Orre," says Rachel. "It was frightening. _He_ was frightening."  
  
"You've had no luck contacting either of them?"  
  
She shakes her head. "Not even the kids at ONBS have heard anything. We were lucky Rui left her diaries with Eagun before disappearing with Wes. I just wish..."  
  
"It wouldn't matter," Lilian sighs, and turns to Rachel. "No ships are flying because of the storms, and all boat travel is suspended until they can figure out what happened to the SS Libra.” Even she can hear the bitterness in her voice when she says, “This is something we're going to have to do on our own."  
  
Rachel turns her face toward the glass, pushing her tiny glasses up the bridge of her hawkish nose. "Maybe Arceus will bless us," Rachel says gently.  
  
Lilian closes her eyes. It's easy to forget that not everyone is born in Orre, as she and her children had been. Immigrants come with their own understanding of the world, different gods and Legendary Pokemon to pray to. There is no such structure in this region. Science fills the space in Lilian that religion occupies in Rachel.  
  
And maybe the pretty secretary notices she’s overstepped, because she bows her head. "I shouldn't leave Frances at the front desk for too much longer. You'd think a scientist would know how to answer a few phones,” Rachel jokes, a tiny olive branch.  
  
Lilian takes it with a soft smile. “We’re a private people.”  
  
"You'll be fine here on your own?"  
  
She’s a mother of two. She’s one of the lead researchers for the only laboratory in Orre. Lilian is many things but _on her own_ is never one of them. “Go relieve Frances, and page me if there’s any news.”  
  
It’s only when the squeaks of Rachel’s sneakers have faded that Lilian turns back toward the glassed-off garden. The Teddiursa has wandered closer to the barrier, dark nose twitching in the sunlight. Lilian watches it warily, gut clenching and feet shifting. She doesn’t have Max’s talent for battling, or Jovi’s natural affinity for Pokemon communication—what she has is a keen eye and an endless reservoir of patience, and even if she can’t quite interpret the signs she knows something has _shifted_ in the tiny bear’s stance. No wrinkled snout, stilled paws, raised head. Submission?  
  
Shoes squeak down the hallway. The glass isn’t soundproof; the Teddiursa reacts first, widens its eyes and squares its shoulders. Lilian doesn’t turn her head until Max is standing right beside her, pressing his palms to the glass. They keep a few inches of distance between them as Max asks, “He’s been doing okay?”  
  
The Teddiursa suddenly lunges forward. Lilian’s arm flies out as she drives them both back away from the shaking wall—nothing breaks except her confidence. Max flinches out of her touch and she sighs, fidgeting with the collar of her pink coat. "He had been."  
  
“The diaries that you and Frances gave me say that’s normal,” he says, and slowly makes his way toward the glass wall. He presses his palm against the glass again, becoming almost statue-like. It’s a far cry from the always-twitching boy she’s used to seeing; something about it almost scares her more than the Teddiursa on the other side of the wall.  
  
Almost.  
  


* * *

  
“Krane always did think Cipher’d come back,” Makan rasps. “Who’d’ve thought that little pet project would’ve born fruit?”  
  
The cell phone fits awkwardly in her trembling hand. “He’s always one for surprises. The part’s ready?”  
  
The old man on the other line grunts. “Someone’ll have to come pick it up, but it’s right here all wrapped up and ready to go.”  
  
“Thank you so much,” she says, and hangs up.  
  
The bounce in her step is the only thing that betrays her glee as she turns to face the machine at her feet, hooked up to three bulky computers. Everyone had chalked up Krane’s insistence on this Purification Chamber to paranoia and the desire to see a crazy idea made real; they’d laughed, and Krane had beared it with a knowing smile and a wink. “It’s always better to be prepared,” he’d always say, and go back to his office.  
  
But she’d worked with him long enough to know there was genius behind the crooked glasses and unkept robes. Somehow he always got to where he needed to be.  
  
The doors to the room slide open, revealing Max with his PDA in his hand. Sam is by his side, fully healed and curious. She gestures them forward, takes in the looks on their faces. They’re curious, wonderfully so, with questions on the tips of their tongues. She holds a hand up as Max opens his mouth; there’ll be time for answering.  
  
"There's a part on order at the shop in Gateon Port. You know the one?"  
  
"By Jovi's friend's house,” he says slowly. “But you need me to go now?"  
  
"Yes. And bring it back as soon as possible. That's why—"  
  
"You're sending Max to Makan’s?”  
  
Where Max is as stealthy as a herd of rampaging Tauros, Jovi is a Misdreavus, ghosting in and out of places without a sound. Her arms are folded and she’s wearing a look Lilian knows well. "I know the way better than Max. There're shortcuts."  
  
"I know how to get to Gateon,” Max huffs.  
  
"I know how to get to Gateon _better_ ,” Jovi says, and sticks her tongue out.  
  
“Enough,” Lilian says, in the Mom Voice that stills her children. "Jovi, why don’t you stay here and—"  
  
"Max can't go alone!” she interrupts, and there’s a fire in her eyes that keeps Lilian from admonishing her. Jovi barrels ahead. “I know the way, I promise! And I won't be slow, I won't even make Max stop for the good ice cream even though it's my favorite, or go up in the lighthouse, or... or anything else fun! Just there and back, I _swear_."  
  
She's eight years old. Max is fourteen. Someone could ambush them. Sam is strong but he isn't strong enough to face everything. Has it been long enough for people to forget what the Snag Machine on her son's arm looks like?  
  
But Gateon Port has always been a safe town, the first stop for travelers and tourists to the region. People with strong Pokemon come for the beaches and the food before participating in the Colosseums. Max and Jovi are favorites with the local shopkeepers, and _they_ have strong Pokemon. There are no dark corners for criminals to lurk in. It takes thirty minutes on Max's motor scooter.  
  
"I wanna help the professor, too," Jovi murmurs sadly, and Lilian feels her heart push past the tipping point.  
  
"Okay," she sighs, and Jovi yelps her delight. "But! You go straight to the shop and back. If the parts aren't ready you will wait for them _in the shop_. You will call me once you have the part. If you aren't ready to go by sundown you stay at Luna's for the night. No traveling in the dark. You stay together the entire time—and I mean that, Max, no ditching your sister. And stay safe."  
  
"We'll be fine!" Jovi says. "C'mon, Max, we gotta go!"  
  
Jovi has already sprinted out of the room, her pigtails flying and her white dress billowing behind her. Max is slower to movement. At fourteen he is already so much like his father—even the exasperated look he gives her reminds Lilian of him. "Do I really have to do this?"  
  
"Think of it as an adventure," Lilian says, and cups his cheek. Normally he shies away from these touches, wanting to be the big man in the laboratory. But when it's just the two of them, sometimes she's able to sneak a hand on his shoulder or thread her fingers through his hair. She wonders how long she'll be able to get away with this. "And don't worry about the Teddiursa. I'll make sure he's okay."  
  
“I want to take him.”  
  
Fear stills her for a moment. She hears the low hum of the computers as they download their new programs; it's a familiar sound, a comforting one, and she sinks into it as she says, “I don’t think that’s wise.”  
  
“I studied the reports. Wes and Rui trained all their Shadow Pokemon, Purified them, and made them into battlers. _Really good ones._ If he stays with me he’ll…” He pauses, runs a hand down his face. Lilian doesn’t interrupt him, lets him take all the time he needs. He closes his eyes and rocks on his heels, trying to come up with the words. His hands are still. “It’ll be better for him,” he finishes simply.  
  
She can feel herself relenting. “It’s one thing to take Sam, but that Teddiursa…”  
  
“He’ll be fine,” Max insists, and reaches for her hand. The contact surprises her more than the fire in Max’s eyes does. She looks down. His hand has no marks or scratches, hasn’t been made rough by hard labor; he’s had a good life, easy if not lacking in high-stake adventure. She doesn’t want that to change.  
  
But he’s not a little boy anymore. She closes her eyes and sighs. “Just be safe,” she says. “And—”  
  
The pager on her hip rings, a shrill sound that pierces. Their hands slip out of each other like they’ve been shocked, like it’s an inevitability, and maybe that’s always been the case. Lilian reluctantly glances down at the red text: _meeting with ONBS 5 min_.  
  
“You call me if _anything_ happens,” she says. The tiny Poke Ball in her pocket is no bigger than a marble; under Max’s touch it inflates, growing so that his hands almost can’t hold onto it. But he does, he holds it with a reverence and a seriousness that reminds Lilian of _herself_. She smiles. “I’m counting on you.”  
  
“It’s a machine part,” Max says, and grins. “What could go wrong?”  
  
“ _Maaaaaax,_ ” Jovi whines from down the hall. “We gotta get there soon if we’re gonna get there before closing!”  
  
“Coming,” he says, and turns his back to her without another word.  
  
She watches her children go with her heart in her throat, then swallows it back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


	6. Chapter Five: Sam

It’s late afternoon by the time Max parks the motor scooter by the Pokemon Center.  
  
Sam has been to Gateon Port before, as the companion on Jovi’s errand quests and adventures, but never with Max. It’s strange to have him here by Sam’s side; Max spends most of his time in the holographic training machines, always eager to be the best of the best. It’s a good feeling, and Sam likes the sound of his squeaky sneakers and restless hands drawing over his baggy pants. He could do without the mechanical whirring of his arm, the one with the…  
  
What was it Frances had called it? The Snag Machine? It’s all anyone seems to talk about these days—Max and how good the Snag Machine looks on him, like it was made for him; Max and the Teddiursa, and how much progress he seems to have been making in just a few short days; Max and the threat of Shadow Pokemon, with the wise-eyed lab techs knowing that this incident is only the beginning.  
  
It’s all anyone talks about. Sam would have joined this short journey just to get out of the lab and all their whispering.  
  
The sunlight hits them just right so that the ball on Max’s belt gleams. It catches Jovi's eyes and she asks, “Are you gonna let him out?”   
  
Max fingers the ball and looks at it. For a moment, Sam thinks he'll actually do it, but then Max reattaches the ball to his belt; it looks natural, like the pictures from Jovi’s storybooks of the great trainers from far across the oceans. Great trainers that, someday, he and Max are going to travel to and conquer. He even sounds like a real trainer when he says, “Maybe not with all these people."  
  
Sam tries really, really hard not to look too relieved at that.  
  
“Then let's go!” Jovi cries, and skips forward. Her skirt twirls as she spins on her heels, flashing Max and Sam a winning smile.  
  
There are men walking down the boardwalk, looping arms and laughing at the top of their lungs. Max lifts his head and shoots forward, grabbing Jovi’s wrist with a firm hand. “Stay close to me,” he says, even as Jovi squirms under his touch.  
  
Sam brushes his body over her ankles, blinks warmly at her, and murmurs a soft, “It’ll be okay.”  
  
People are coming out in droves now, leaving their restaurants and bars with full stomachs and unsteady steps and peels of loud laughter. It’s hard to keep up with them; more than once Sam feels a sharp foot on his tail, a jab to his side from a careless foot. He almost asks to go back into his ball but he doesn’t want to, he’s the Pokemon—the _first Pokemon_ , the one that’s the leader and best friend—and it’s his job to keep his humans safe.  
  
He’s used to the cool tile of the laboratory and the scratchy grass in the back lawn; this hot heat from the sun-soaked cobblestone is new and unwanted, and he has to fight the little sigh of relief as they reach the parts shop. The glass doors slide open and a gust of cold air blasts into their faces; Sam leans into it, lapping up the trickles of air like it’s water. He’s never been in this shop before; he’s had no reason to—Jovi usually leads him to the house next door, where her best friend likes to play with dolls and hockey sticks, or to the ice cream shop on the other side of town. But this place is full of shelves and shiny things that glint under the bright overhead lights, and it’s almost blinding.  
  
Max pauses just inside the sliding glass doors, plucks the Poke Ball off his belt, and releases it. The Teddiursa emerges in a flash of white light, squinting from the bright overhead lights. Sam watches him warily, stepping between the brown Pokemon and Jovi, who coos softly at the little bear.  
  
He doesn’t attack. Sam lifts his head.  
  
“Okay,” Max breathes, and leads them to the teenager waiting at the front desk; Jovi hovers by a bin of something-or-others that catch the light. The Teddiursa follows slowly behind Max, sniffing furiously. Nothing shiny seems to catch his attention, and that seems strange, but so does attacking so hard you draw blood. Sam follows the two up to the desk, where Max is talking with the boy with the tired eyes; judging by the dull glint of his eye, Sam doesn’t think the Teddiursa is looking at much of anything.  
  
Sam leans forward. “You’re doing okay?”  
  
It catches the tiny bear’s attention. Dull black eyes glance up and meet Sam’s; the Eevee has to fight the shudder that itches his spine. It’s only been a week since Professor Krane had been kidnapped, since Sam and the Teddiursa had fought, since the Teddiursa had been Snagged. A week isn’t long enough.  
  
“Um,” he says, and shifts his feet. “I think it might be nice, you know, to get to know each other. Max said something the other night about how talking might help you… get to know us…”  
  
Silence.  
  
“I’m Sam,” he finishes lamely. “Jovi calls me Sammy, and—you know Jovi, right?” He lifts a sandy paw and points to her. “She doesn’t battle like Max does, but she’s really nice. Likes to cuddle.”  
  
There’s no life behind those eyes. There hasn’t been since that battle, when Krane had… But when the Teddiursa had wandered the garden, or into the forest with Max, there was just this emptiness in his expression. Like there wasn’t anything there. And Sam hasn’t quite been able to figure out which one is worse.  
  
“Do you, uh, like battling or cuddling more?”  
  
But the boy behind the counter interrupts them with a cheery, “It’ll be alright, you’ll see!” and suddenly Max is reaching for his bag and shoving something large and shiny inside it, a big thick green gear that shines in the light. That must be the part.  
  
“Thanks again,” Max is saying, and turns to the two Pokemon. “You two doing okay?”  
  
Sam nods. The Teddiursa scratches his nose. Jovi hops over to the front counter, hands lightly stained with grease; somehow, none of it has found a place on her dress. “That was fast.”  
  
“It wasn’t that hard,” Max says. “I guess it’s time to head home—“  
  
“Can we get ice cream?" Jovi interrupts, tugging on Max's unburdened arm. " _Please?_ It’s really hot out and I don’t think it’d be good to travel in this heat.”  
  
Max narrows his eyes. “You told Mom we wouldn’t stop for ice cream.”  
  
“The lab was really cool, I didn’t think we’d need it,” Jovi says, and Sam can’t help but laugh. Jovi winks at him and rocks on her heels. “Besides, I don’t want Frank to get too hot.”  
  
“We don’t have time,” Max sighs, “and even if we—wait. Frank?”  
  
Jovi gestures to the Teddiursa. “We can’t just keep calling him ‘the Teddiursa,’ Max. He needs a name.”  
  
The fake battlers in Max’s computer programs never had nicknames—they were all just data, disappearing and reappearing with a few keystrokes. It had been Jovi who had given Sam his name; at some point in the year that he’s been here, “Sammy” had been shortened to “Sam” and that had been that. Max slips his hands into his pockets. “He was stolen from another trainer, Jov. Maybe he already has a name.”  
  
“Well, until he tells us what it is, I’m gonna call him Frank.” Her shy blue eyes turn down to the little cream bear. “Is that okay with you?”  
  
The Teddiursa— _Frank_ —stares for a very long time. And then, slowly, he nods.  
  
“See, he likes it!” Jovi flashes a gummy grin and begins to bounce on her heels. “I think we need ice cream to celebrate. _Pleaaaaase?_ ”  
  
Max groans as he pulls his PDA out of his pocket. “4:30,” he mutters under his breath, then sighs. “If there’s not a long line—”  
  
“YES!” Jovi shouts, and jumps like she’s won the lottery. She kind of has. She might be too busy celebrating this tiny victory to see the exasperated roll of Max’s eyes or the tiniest ghost of a smile on his face, but Sam isn’t. He wags his tail and brushes his body along Max’s ankles. His fingers brush against the tip of Sam’s tail, and that simple contact is enough to send Sam’s heart soaring.  
  
“Better hurry though,” Max says, and fingers for his belt. The Teddiursa at Max’s feet looks blankly at the Poke Ball, the corners of his mouth turned down. “I’ll let you out when we’re there, okay?” Max asks.  
  
A slow blink. A nod. Frank closes his eyes as he’s absorbed into his ball. It’s an image that Sam fixates on as Jovi leads the way out to the pier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


	7. Chapter Six: Jovi

Maltee’s Delights is not a small ice cream shop, but it’s always full of people sampling and enjoying their frozen treats in the hot Orre sun. It seems to be one of the unspoken rules of Gateon Port: come in, get your ice cream, and watch the sailors’ Wingull fly above the waves. Jovi, as always, gets strawberry ice cream and, as always, dives straight in before any money has been exchanged. Mrs. Maltee, as always, sends her off with a smile and a few napkins for the “inevitable moment” where she spills. Which isn’t going to happen this time—she’s a big girl now, fully capable of eating _all_ of her ice cream.  
  
Max follows behind her, licking his chocolate scoops. They find a bench overlooking the motorized pathways that turn at the flick of a switch—and if it were any other time, if she was here by herself or just with Sammy, she’d run out and cause chaos. But it’s enough that Max is letting her celebrate the end of their chore, and she kicks the air happily as she licks and licks.  
  
Frank is sitting between them, staring silently out onto the water. Jovi scoops a little bit of her ice cream onto the sample spoon she’d kept—Cheri Crunch, which had been okay but it wasn’t _strawberry_ —and offers it to the tiny Teddiursa. “It’s really yummy,” she says. “Wanna try?”  
  
The little bear looks at it curiously, taking the spoon into his paws. Her finger accidentally brushes over Frank’s paw; his fur is smoother than she thought it would be, but the pads are rough and she shudders. Frank’s eyes fly to her with the contact. She offers him a small smile and he imitates it awkwardly before turning to lap up the frozen treat.  
  
There is nothing that can’t be cured, she thinks sagely, with a little bit of ice cream.  
  
“It shouldn’t take us very long to go back home,” Max says, leaning heavily on his knees. His ice cream drips just hairs away from the tips of his shoes—or it would, if Sammy wasn’t there to lick them up from the air. Jovi giggles and runs a sticky hand along Sam’s back, teasing the short fur along his spine. Max sees her at it and rolls his eyes. “Can’t you hurry up?”  
  
“Maybe if you stop being a _meanie_ I will,” Jovi says. She draws her tongue over the sweet treat in one slow motion, savoring both the frigid sweetness and the annoyance in Max’s eyes.  
But she hears Sam’s soft, “We didn’t come here to fight,” and sighs, eating more quickly.  
  
She wishes she didn’t have to. The sun isn’t quite close to setting but the sky’s already tinted gold and red, and it makes her feel warm. There’s nothing better than eating ice cream on the pier, overlooking the ocean. She likes the sparkles on the sea and the sound of the waves crashing on the white beaches, and the soft cry of the Wingull, and the black shapes on the moving platforms—  
  
Wait.  
  
The platforms aren’t the scary thing; they move all the time, Mrs. Matlee had told her, for boats and maintenance workers and tourists. It’s the people on them now. They’re too far away for her to see any features but she can see where they’re going. The old lighthouse is only a building now; years ago, when Jovi was just a baby, there used to be an Ampharos who lit the house. But then they brought in the technology to light the top itself, and they’d let the Ampharos go. No one goes in there now except maintenance workers. Jovi’s seen a few of them slip in and out in the daylight, but never as the sun sets. Jovi tugs Max’s arm and points. “Something’s up.”  
  
She’s caught him in the middle of a bite. He clears his throat. “Not our problem,” Max says. “We have to—”  
  
Max is calling her name and Sam is crying, but she doesn’t turn back. She’s left her ice cream behind to melt on the wood bench. Her shoes click against the cobblestone and then the steel of the bridges—she hears Sam’s tiny paws flutter against the road, and Max’s squeaky sneakers. His solid hand finds her wrist again just before she reaches the door. She turns, catching Sam’s wide, scared eyes. No sign of Frank. “What were you _thinking?_ ”  
  
“Max,” Sam whines, “maybe you should listen to her—”  
  
“I don’t care!” he shouts.  
  
Sam crouches down under the weight of the command, and that makes Jovi angrier than her brother’s vice grip. “You don’t have to yell at him—“  
  
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you come with me, you always do this! When we get home—”  
  
“...pleasure doin’ business.”  
  
The warning comes too late. The tall man with the shock of pale yellow hair comes out with his broad shoulders high, with a sick grin twisting his pointed face. The Zangoose beside him follows silently, its long purple claws twitching and shiny. Jovi presses frightfully into her brother’s side—she’s expecting him to flinch away but he doesn’t, instead he wraps an arm tightly around her. That should be flag number one—Max doesn’t like to be touched. He’s warm from the sun and that’s a tiny comfort.  
  
The motion catches the man’s attention. He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you’re here for one of the strong Pokemon?” he asks, in a voice like the bad man’s from one of the Saturday cartoons.  
  
Max takes a deep breath before answering, “I already have a strong Pokemon.”  
  
The stranger looks down at Max’s other side. Jovi follows his eyes and spots Sam trying his best to be brave—his fur is fluffed out and he looks like a puffball with angry eyes, like one of her toys that’s been dried the wrong way.   
  
The man laughs, and Jovi burrows deeper into Max’s embrace. “Your Eevee’d be better off as a hat, kid. Let me know when you want to play with the big boys, alright?”  
  
Sam growls. The man laughs again and recalls his Zangoose, who hasn’t looked up once. Jovi’s hand grabs instinctively for the loose sleeve of Max’s jacket, trying to find something to hold onto. But when the man finally walks past the platforms and onto the pier, Max flinches away. His breathing is hard and rough, and there’s a wild gleam in his eyes as he looks down at her. “Sam isn’t a match for that Zangoose,” he says.  
  
It’s the calm before the storm. Jovi swallows hard. “But—“  
  
“And if he has a Zangoose he probably has more Pokemon,” he continues, growling, “and if he’d wanted to battle we’d be…“ He shakes his head. “We’re going home. _Now_.”  
  
They make it all of two steps before a voice calls to them from inside the lighthouse. The woman who walks into the dusky light is one of the tallest and _biggest_ Jovi’s ever seen. Her arms are probably as wide as two Max’s put together. She walks forward with a gleam in her eye and the first thing Jovi thinks is that she could probably lift a whole building onto her shoulders. She gasps.  
  
“He gave you the willies too, huh?” the woman asks kindly, and extends a hand. “Don’t worry. Zook’s an old friend of mine from school, he wouldn’t hurt you if I had a say in it.”  
  
Max’s hand clenches Jovi’s shoulder. She yelps. Max doesn’t react. “Oh.”  
  
“You get a Pokemon from him, too?” she asks, resting her hands on her hips.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then the Eevee’s yours?” she chuckles. She sees something and laughs. “And another one too! Must be my lucky day. Hey kid, you wanna battle?”  
  
Not good. Not good.  
  
“We need to get home,” Max says, and finally moves away from Jovi.  
  
“Ahh, c’mon. Just a quick little scrap, won’t take more than a few minutes.” She plucks a shiny Poke Ball from her belt. “Or do I have to call the Trainer’s Agreement?”  
  
Can Max even be considered a trainer? There’s no official Pokemon League in Orre, just a few scattered Colosseums. But Gateon’s a trade port, where bunches of trainers come in from all over—from places that _have_ lLeagues and rules and things like Trainer’s Agreements.  
  
Max may have been born in Orre but there’s no mistaking it, he’s not intending to stay here for long. He’s trapped, and he knows it. “Fine,” he finally growls.  
  
There’s just enough clear space for them to do battle right in front of the lighthouse. The bodybuilder, who still hasn’t introduced herself, backs up. “I hear the standard in Orre’s the double battle. It’ll make things quicker.”  
  
She’s watched Max’s fights on the monitor—he’s better playing one-on-one. But he nods, fists trembling. “Yeah,” he says. “Sam, get out there.”  
  
She’s not used to being scared, not like this. The big man with the Zangoose is one thing; seeing Sammy out on the battlefield again, when he’s just done recovering from his wounds, is another. The little Eevee is joined very quickly by Frank and she watches, trembling, as the Teddiursa lifts his head, flexes his claws, leans forward.   
  
Max is deathly still as the bodybuilder releases her Pokemon. Jovi leans forward. She’s not allowed to use Max’s fancy battle simulation—she’s “too young,” Max tells her, which is stupid, because she isn’t too young he’s just too _mean_ —but she has a picture book in her room with all the Pokemon in each of the regions—even the Legendary ones—that’s already worn in the corners from use. Max learns by doing; Jovi learns by reading. She may not know how hard they hit or how to use them in battle, but she knows what Zubat and Poochyena look like. It’s still so strange to see them with her own two eyes, _real_ Pokemon—  
  
Jovi’s plucked from her thoughts by a mechanical whir. Lights flash on Max’s robotic arm, the one that makes him _special_ , and a little screen pushes out to cover the right side of his face. It makes his face look green but it doesn’t hide the wide surprise of his eye, or the furrow of his brow. The bodybuilder has noticed it too, and folds her arms across her big chest. “What is that, some new toy?”  
  
She might not have read Max’s diary, but she knows what this means just by looking at Max’s wide eyes.  
  
“Shadow Pokemon,” he whispers, and Jovi’s heart sinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


	8. Chapter Seven: Sam

Sam doesn’t need Max’s fancy arm to tell him that there’s something wrong with that Poochyena.  
  
It’s bowed low, its nose brushing against the smooth concrete, with bristling tail and an uneasy, fearful look in its eyes. It does not want to be here. _Sam_ doesn’t want to be here, if he’s perfectly honest, but it’s a battle and he has to do what Max tells him.  
  
He’s more worried about the Teddiursa, Frank, who’s staring down the Zubat with no trace of emotion. Being this close to him is strange, awkward—how does he know Frank won’t turn on him, claw into him like he had that first time?  
  
No. No, he has to trust Max. He has to trust that progress they’ve made, the nods and grunts and stoic stillness.  
  
“Take out that Zubat first,” Max says. Sam grips onto these words like a lifeline, lets them wash over him. “Tackle, Sam. And Frank…”  
  
Sam doesn’t hear the second half of Max’s command. He charges forward and leaps right into the air, slams his head right into the Zubat’s tiny body. Wings and teeth scrape his face but they both fall down, Sam on top of the little bat that struggles under his body weight. He doesn’t hear the woman’s words, either, just a yell in her sharp voice. And then there’s a hard body barreling against his side, and the scrape of the concrete as he falls down.  
  
Frank is already rushing the Poochyena before Sam blinks the tears out of his eyes, in a hard tackle that sends them both flying. The Poochyena yelps and runs away from the brunt of it, tripping over its own feet in an excuse to get away. Frank stands there with his shoulders curled forward and a quizzical look in his eye. If this were any other time Sam would be pleased.  
Right now he’s just looking at the Poochyena, and Jovi curled against Max’s side with wide eyes.  
  
The Zubat disappears underneath him in a flash of red light. That doesn’t matter. Max is yelling and pointing at Sam to do something, do _anything_ , so he pushes himself up and runs in front of the Poochyena. Their bodies slam hard against each other, Sam can feel the blow echo in his bones—Sam and the Poochyena tangle together, jaws snapping against each other. There’s a red anger that grows in Sam’s chest, flashes with every click of his teeth and every scrape of his paws against the Poochyena’s skin.  
  
He’s aware of voices. Jovi screaming his name, the bodybuilder trying to call her Poochyena off. They’re all muffled in his ears, clashing against the snarls of the Poochyena and his own growls. But the heavy weight is suddenly shoved off him; Sam catches only a flash of brown before he can breathe again. Frank has his paws clamped tightly on the Poochyena’s loud mouth, effectively muzzling him. The Teddiursa’s eyes are sharp and wild and clear, clearer than Sam has ever seen them. There’s a new wariness in them now, and when Sam meets Frank’s eyes he _swears_ there’s something alive there.  
  
But the Poochyena bucks in just the right way that Frank goes flying, landing hard on the concrete ground. And the Poochyena is running fast, right past a winded Sam, right toward—  
  
Jovi, who has her arms outstretched and her little pink mouth round with fear.  
  
He pushes forward. He grabs the Poochyena by the tail and tugs, sharp, and they get tangled again. And for the second time the heavy, snarling weight of his snarling opponent disappears.  
  
When he looks up, Max has a Poke Ball in his shaking hand.  
  
He feels dizzy. Sam falls to the ground with heavy breaths, closes his eyes to stop the stars dancing behind his eyes. Little heels click on the stone and before he knows it there are hands on his back, fingers threading through the long fur of his collar. He flinches away from Jovi’s touch and squeezes his eyes more tightly against Jovi’s soft little, “Max, something’s wrong.”  
  
His _everything_ explodes.  
  
But it isn’t painful. There’s something about the lengthening of his limbs and neck that feels strange, yes, but not unnaturally so. Like a really long stretch after a nap. His shoulders pop as he rolls them, his nose twitches, his ears twitch. When he opens his eyes he’s surprised to see that the lights look _sharper_ somehow, that the air tastes crisper and cooler.  
  
“What,” he starts to say, but his voice sounds wrong—it’s deeper than it had been just moments ago. He looks down at his paws, slender and pitch black.  
  
Jovi’s hand is hovering inches away from his face, and there’s something hesitant in her expression. “Are you okay?” she asks softly.  
  
It takes a moment for him to get his balance—his legs are longer than he’s used to, but sturdy and strong. “I think so,” Sam says, and takes a deep breath. His heart is beating steady and strong in his chest. “Are _you_?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah. I’m—“  
  
The moment is broken as the bodybuilder yells, “What the hell was _that?_ ”  
  
“There’s something wrong with your Poochyena,” Max says. A flash of red illuminates the battlefield as Frank is recalled. “That guy you’re friends with, he’s—”  
  
“You _stole my Pokemon!_ ” she yells. “I’m gonna drag your ass to the damn police right now!”  
  
“Max, maybe we should go,” Jovi whimpers.  
  
There are still stars swimming at the edges of Sam’s eyes, and his limbs are weary from battle and evolution. He turns bravely to the approaching bodybuilder, ready to go again—  
  
But Max screams, “Run!” and that’s that, they’re going as fast as their legs can carry them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find more information about this run's characters, and my other nuzlockes, at washinuzlockes.tumblr.com.


End file.
